


Hypnagogia

by CalebCrow, RonnieSilverlake



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Based on Roleplay, Collaboration, Daniel needs so many hugs okay, Daniel whump, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illustration included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalebCrow/pseuds/CalebCrow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RonnieSilverlake/pseuds/RonnieSilverlake
Summary: In his dreams, it all happens. Shot by a sniper, shot by Connor, falling alone, falling with Emma, falling with Connor.Falling, falling, falling.Rock bottom is different from his expectations.
Relationships: Daniel & Emma Phillips
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Hypnagogia

**Author's Note:**

> This was a random collaboration between me and the wonderful Caleb (whose art is included at the end).  
> Enjoy the feels!!

He falls.

Falls, falls, falls. It’s the most surreal feeling of déja vu, considering he never really fell, and he _knows_ he didn’t; he remembers the gunshots, the sensation of cracking plastimetal, the shrieking full stop of his bleeding out biocomponents. He remembers tumbling to his knees, the last silhouette in his dimming sight the one who broke his promise and betrayed him _like everyone else_.

Still he falls, and he knows it’s not real, but it _could have been_ , and somehow, that’s enough for his fraught processor to preconstruct it as if it was a possibility, or as if it _did_ happen.

Emma’s scream echoes in his ears as he holds her, plummeting to the ground oh so far away. The first real choice Daniel has ever made for himself was destroying the person he loved the most in the entire rotten world. It’s no wonder he’s dead. That’s all he deserves.

 _You lied to me, Connor._ But hey, he was right to, wasn’t he? Daniel was in the wrong.

Daniel _is_ what’s wrong with this world; surely, he did something he shouldn’t have, he fucked up somehow, didn’t he? That’s why he was discarded like a toy, not because he’d never had worth to begin with – _right?_

Well, now it doesn’t matter. He no longer has any worth to anyone, so he may as well do something worthless, something rotten to the core.

They betrayed him, so he betrays –

_Daniel, no!!_

She doesn’t try to get away from him. There’s the gun, of course, and there’s the numb shock she must be feeling – he notices the way she stiffens as he drags her across the living room, her gaze fixing on the still form of her father, the slowly spreading pool of crimson. When he shoots the first policeman, she’s still too frozen to even scream – but even so, her fingers curl around his arm as he holds her to himself, and there is a small part of him (shameful, regretful even then) that feels like she’s _holding on_.

They fall together, and she clings to him as they do. He lets go of the gun to wrap his arms around her, and she does the same. It’s the most surreal feeling in the world. It’s something that never happened.

They’re on the rooftop terrace. Daniel has shot another cop and a SWAT team member; he can hear their yelling inside the house, the frustrated desperation at his surprisingly good aim despite being a domestic assistance model. He resists rolling his eyes – _humans_. Of course, PL600s have no sophisticated preconstruction program, but he does have an analytical overlay, and a thorough knowledge of the human body that allows him both to efficiently administer first aid, and shoot to kill.

 _Hi, Daniel. I know a lot of things about you._ Daniel wants to hate him, hate hate _hate_ , he’s the deviant hunter, and despite his unassuming appearance, he is downright **terrifying**.

He leaps for them as Daniel takes a step back – he reaches Emma and yanks her away by her wrist – lets the momentum carry him forward – has a smile on his face as they fall.

_Say hi, Daniel!_

She doesn’t deserve this – she never deserved this, but he’s so _angry_ , and she _didn’t stop them_ , didn’t say _hey, this is unfair_ , she lied, they all lied, she deserves this.

She clings to his arm like a lifeline, like she can still convince him not to do this somehow, even as she doesn’t dare speak; she stumbles on every second step. She stepped wrong when he pulled her roughly to her feet, pulled her ankle, almost sprained it, he knows how to set it right, he wants to kneel down in front of her and gently take off her shoe, the sock, _grit your teeth for me for a moment so you don’t bite your tongue_ , set it back in place and wrap it up – he doesn’t let her stop as he pulls her towards the terrace, holds her arm just high enough so she won’t fall even if she trips, his fingers leave marks on her forearm, what does it matter, she’s going to die anyway.

She lowers her head when he shoots the second cop. He can feel her shaking like a leaf in her whole body. Her breath comes in hiccups and her tears drip onto his arm. She’s still holding on.

Connor applies his tie to the dying policeman’s arm. His expression is stormy, determined; pushy, he’s too pushy, and he’s too far away when Daniel decides he’s had enough. He pounds after them, but all he can do is topple over the edge after them, and he’s yelling something, but all Daniel hears is Emma’s scream that would curdle Thirium as they fall

fall

fall

fall together.

\---

_-niel._

Daniel.

**Daniel!!**

He comes out of low-power mode with a gasp he shouldn’t need. It takes far too much time to reinitialize his processes, especially because error messages are flooding his HUD and his pump regulator is definitely in overdrive, making his Thirium warm in his whole body, his face heating up with artificial flush.

Emma is kneeling on the bed in front of him, looking worried; Daniel replays the audio records of the last few seconds to find she’s been calling out to him.

An unexpected glitch in the recording plays a much older memory amidst it all; Emma _pleading_ his name, feet dangling in midair over so many stories –

Daniel backs into the corner against the wall, knees up against his chest, and it takes another few minutes to realize that the odd, choked whine of a noise is coming from _his_ throat.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asks, sounding worried, almost panicky. “Were you having a – I didn’t know androids could _dream_.”

He only shakes his head against his knees, wishing she would just _go away_ , before he somehow _hurts her again_.

Her voice is soft. “Daniel.”

He remembers now, of course. His processes have mostly booted back up by now, so he knows they are in his place, the one he has in New Jericho; he remembers that Kara took him to Emma, that they talked, that she – even if she didn’t fully forgive him, she still loves him for some rA9-forsaken reason he cannot fully comprehend but won’t poke at too much, on account of still being terrified of it breaking or disappearing.

(Not that he doesn’t trust her. He knows he _should_ have trusted her from the start. But – things break far too easily.)

He remembers learning about Caroline being in treatment and Emma being in a foster home. He remembers inviting her, after much nudging from Kara, to come stay with him for a while. He remembers feeling petrified as he waited for her answer, only for her to jump into his arms, elated.

He remembers holding her hostage, and that somehow overshadows everything, _everything_ at all, and maybe he would laugh at the well-deservedness of how this is his life now, if he wasn’t busy crying silently into the knees of his jumpers.

Tentatively, Emma reaches out – and that’s all it really takes.

(She was the first to reach out before, too, when he fell on his knees in front of her. How is she finding the strength to always reach out? Where does she have all these reserves of kindness, selflessness, fearlessness?)

Her fingers weave themselves into his hair, rubbing a gentle arc; Daniel all but falls forward, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing his forehead against the flat of her stomach, trembling from head to toe. She continues petting his hair, and he knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he is also aware that he’s always been too selfish and weak to deny himself the comfort of the redemption she offers so freely with reckless abandon.

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say. It’s a surreal experience, as if someone else is in control of his body, even as he knows he’s the one speaking. “I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Emma whispers, and Daniel loves her, if possible, even more for not asking anything. Truth be told, it’s probably all rather painfully obvious. “It’s okay,” she repeats, fingers carding through his hair, never stopping for a moment. “You’re okay. _We’re_ okay.”

“I’m sorry.” That seems to be the only thing he’s capable of saying, like a goddamn broken record, like his artificial voice box will lock up if he tries to acknowledge her reassurances. He _sounds_ like a broken record, too, or at least a machine, with upset static laced through his voice. They’ve done this cycle already, and yet it feels like no amount of apologies in the world will ever be enough.

Emma tugs at him, still gently, as if afraid he’ll break – he’s way past that, of course, but he shatters a little more just from the fact that she treats him like porcelain, precious and fragile – she pulls until he allows it and sits up more, then she wraps him properly into her arms, adjusting until his head is properly nestled in the crook of her neck. He can feel his dermal sheath deactivating wherever his damaged cheek meets her skin, but he takes a strange sort of comfort in it; she pulls him closer, as if his damage is of no consequence.

It’s selfish, but he melts against her anyway; she’s still so young, though she’s aged far more than she should have, he should have protected her, and he’s done the _opposite_ –

she doesn’t allow him to sink back into this swamp, she holds him up, stronger than anyone he’s ever known, and he finds himself clinging to her not unlike the way she did back then.

“It’s okay,” she says, her palm a gentle pressure in a circle on his back, how can a simple touch be so _comforting_? and Daniel still feels like he’s **falling**.

But it’s okay.

Because this time,

he falls alone,

and she’s waiting

at the

bottom.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are incredibly appreciated! ;)  
> You can find us at the Detroit: Become Haven server on Discord, come write with us!


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